Edging Eclipses
by OpheliacAngel
Summary: He figures he'd try to cut his hair today... Contains ptsd. AU - Earlier half of Season 6, or when Sam has no soul. Dean/Gabriel.


**Title: **Edging Eclipses

**Author: **OpheliacAngel

**Pairings & Characters: **Gabriel/Dean

**Genre: **Romance/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

**Rating: **Teen

**Summary: **He figures he'd try to cut his hair today... Contains ptsd. AU - Earlier half of Season 6, or when Sam has no soul.

**A/N: **Whenever I know I need to edit but then really don't want to, I always end up writing Debriel, giving me even more to edit. Oops.

* * *

"You ever think of donning a Mohawk?"

Dean looks up at him, confusion clouding over horror, "What?"

"Oh, nothing. Just get a craving to gel your hair sometimes and style it till something strikes my fancy."

He should have told Gabriel to go be a hair stylist, since Gabriel likes to color and mold things to his own will, but the human is retreating back inside himself once more, a place he doesn't want to let Gabriel see. That's fine, since he doesn't really what to see or hear about whatever horrors lay breeding in Dean's head anyway, but his silence is slowly tearing the archangel down until he wants nothing more than the real Dean in front of him.

Maybe this is the real Dean though: the Dean broken and scarred enough to drift away, the fake one being the one who puts up that facade that exudes confidence and birthed the 'I'm completely fine' statement.

Most of the time the human is so blindingly bright that Gabriel never stops being amazed and blown away.

But today Dean is all silent, suppressed agony and tremors running through his sturdy, masculine frame that actually looks anything but that right now. He looks frail enough to literally crack in two if Gabriel were to touch him wrong; luckily, Gabriel's a master at knowing how to handle the human in any and every one of his moods. Today, Dean is losing himself in his own head, to whatever past horrors lie in wait for him. Gabriel supposes he can push him as much as needs be for his own amusement before Dean starts responding normally again. He isn't going to push him though, Gabriel doesn't sink that low when it comes to Dean Winchester.

Dean gets days like this every once in a while. Sam calls it post traumatic stress disorder but Gabriel just calls it 'fuck the world for doing this to Dean' day.

And then he becomes infuriated and if there's a raging thunderstorm, goes outside to scream so no one can hear his anger and guilt and grief. Or he may just get angry at Dean for leaving him for this bullshit and start throwing things around the room, making it look like a tornado crashed through it. He both loves and hates the look on Dean's face when he finally registers the state of him and the room.

No matter how angry he gets though, angry enough to perhaps destroy the world, he always melts down into a calm and giving disposition when Dean finds his way back. Because Dean leaving him doesn't in any way justify Gabriel leaving him.

Gabriel sighs then smiles, running his fingers through Dean's hair. The human is sitting in a chair beneath him, gaze straight ahead and looking at nothing in particular. The archangel agreed to cut his hair today but maybe it wasn't such a good decision after all. On these days, Dean is unpredictable, at one moment barely registering the scissors at all and the next, no possible warning, jumping away in horror, the instrument barely missing Dean's ear.

He pictures Dean with the Mohawk again, and he's really starting to like the image.

"What do ya think, Deano? Want to try something new?"

If Dean heard him say that, he would kick his ass. But alas, Dean isn't registering much at this moment.

He's not sure whether he should be bold enough to give Dean what he's seriously considering, or any unfamiliar hairdo for that matter. He starts cutting anyway, figures he'll think of something as he's going along. Dean trusts him, trusts his judgment. He barely gets half way through before Dean's voice startles him out of his concentration.

"Gabe, if you leave... you'll tell me, right?"

His hand freezes in the middle of snipping the back of his hair. Where the hell is this coming from? More than that, he really doesn't want to be hearing this right now. He'd vote for hearing anything but this.

"Does it look like I'm getting ready to leave, Deano? Hell," he says, his voice shaking a little, "I'm the one who offered to cut your hair here. Cause let's face it, I could be doing other things right now, like say, fucking you into the mattress. I am known for my mercy though," he adds, unsure whether he's handling this situation properly.

He doesn't even think Dean registered any of that. "Yeah, but one of us will. Someday. On second thought," his head sinks lower, "it'll probably be me."

"Don't," Gabriel states, slamming the scissors down on the table. "You don't get to do this now." He doesn't get to do this ever, more like it. He makes sure it sinks in, lowering himself down to Dean's eye level and cupping his head with both hands, tilting his face up to look at him. "The only way I'll leave you is if you ask me to or in the occasion that someone pries my dead body out of your hands."

Dean shakes his head in despair and disappointment, "It's so like you, to make a joke out of this. What if I wanted you to leave, get away while you could? Make sure I don't drag you down with me. Seriously, Gabriel," he says even as the archangel shakes his head vehemently, trying hard not to leave room for further discussion, "you don't want to stay here with me. 'Specially when I'm like this."

Gabriel stands up and starts pacing, he then puts his tools away, knowing he's done for the day.

"Don't say that. _This _isn't what bothers me." He removes the towel from around Dean and brushes little hairs off his neck and face, being sensitive around his nose. "What bothers me is that you're pushing me away. And I don't appreciate that much, Dean."

The human goes quiet after that, eyes glazing over with guilt as Gabriel finishes wiping down his face, this time with a warm washcloth, since Dean's been complaining of feeling cold since early this morning. He lowers himself down to Dean's feet, rolling up the bottoms of his jeans, preparing to put socks on but he flinches away, then tries to act like it was nothing.

Gabriel pauses, drawing his hands back for only a second. "You still tense. After all this time, you still _tense_," he says it like an accusation, but his actions speak far differently, moving deliberately slow this time as his hand slips under his jeans and travels upward, fingers gently stroking the human's left calf. Dean doesn't blow off the gesture but starts to stand up, swaying slightly, and Gabriel wraps an arm around him to support his unsteady gait. "If I didn't have so much respect for your _stupid _pride, I would be carrying you right now." His fondly annoyed tone doesn't elicit a response, but Gabriel can tell he hasn't left him again, he's just quiet and dreadfully still, and this is solely of Dean's volition.

"I'll finish your hair tomorrow," he makes known, waiting to see if Dean will nod or at least display some recognition in his eyes, but he doesn't even do that. "Oh, fuck this," the archangel picks Dean up off the ground and carries him over to the bed. Dean isn't tensing anymore, or complaining, or growling at him silently or anything like that. "I hate you sometimes," Gabriel says, though it comes across as anything but bitter, "you know that?" More affectionate, he supposes, he always gets that way around Dean. It must be his charming personality. He places the human on the bed, whose hand instantly grips the headboard tightly, wincing in sudden pain and squirming, inching closer to the top of the bed.

'You are so useless,' the archangel thinks but only as a joke, only ever as a joke. He bites his tongue before Dean can hear it though, he certainly doesn't need to hear that when he's in this particular state of mind.

"M'sorry," Dean mumbles, even as phantom pain starts to rack his body.

"Shut up," he snaps before he means to, the fury that this is happening to Dean gnawing at him again. He draws back for a second, waiting to see if Dean's prepared to undress himself. Dean looks up at him and smiles though, and it warms the entirety of Gabriel to beautiful brilliance. "Just... damn it," he breaks, "you infuriate me. Don't know whether I should be kissing you or shoving you outside."

He shimmies his pants down until they're finally off and then bundles him up in sweats, taking a moment to massage his feet. "Easy, sweetie," he says softly when Dean's eyes fill with panic and he tenses further, as if seeing someone else in place of Gabriel and needing to be given a reminder. "You know me, little ol' Gabriel, archangel without his tricks. Turning into a heap of nothing all thanks to you," he smiles, his thumbs kneading into tense skin and Dean finally lets go and moans, fingers slipping off the headboard though seconds later searching for another purchase. Gabriel is finally able to pull a pair of thick socks over his feet quickly and then grips his hand.

"Jeans were warmer," Dean murmurs, tossing and turning, hands clenching and unclenching, courtesy of a pain Gabriel wants to soothe away. He shakes his head in exasperation at Dean's words, though his face show the true pity he feels and he wastes no more time in getting under the covers beside him, seeming to still him automatically.

"What in the world have you turned me into?" Dean scoots closer to him and after a while, buries his face in Gabriel's neck, fingers twisting the buttons clumsily on the archangel's shirt. His eyes glaze over occasionally, but he still seems to know where he is. Gabriel smiles, entwining their fingers, his other hand wrapped around Dean securely. "You comfortable?" Dean nods, though Gabriel can feel him frowning against his neck, swallowing thickly.

"It's easy, Dean. Just let go."

Gabriel never realizes just how fragile humans are until moments like this, yet also how adorable and beautiful they are. If he wanted to, he could break Dean like a twig right now, but a human emotion ends up stopping him in his tracks every time: adoration. It's quite fascinating when he ponders it, how a human could come so close to falling apart and yet have an archangel, a higher being, love him for that reason, among dozens of others.

"Easy for you to say."

Dean's more broken than most humans, and it's both appealing and painful to watch, the former because Gabriel can't fathom how he's still on his feet most days. It's almost exhilarating, knowing all the things he could do to Dean, and his heartbeat speeds up upon realizing the trust Dean has in him. It's a trust that had to be built up, but Gabriel knows it means there's no going back because even when Dean tenses, it's never directly as a result of him. It's always something else.

He can feel something wet against his neck but he ignores it, Dean deserves as much.

"Don't know why," he mumbles, wiping his nose hurriedly on Gabriel's shirt though not turning away from him after that, merely soaking up the warmth he emanates, laying his head down against Gabriel's chest. "Force of habit, I guess," he finishes and Gabriel smooths back his hair, both happy and sad to be privy to this because there's both advantages and disadvantages to being with Dean.

Feeling like you need to pick up the pieces.

Knowing Dean's so fucking complex you probably can't.

"You feel like talking, I'm right here. You're perfectly content to use me as your pillow so why shouldn't I just share everything else I have to offer?" Dean deserves it, after all, and he actually feels kinda proud, being Dean Winchester's official pillow. It's not often that Dean's so pliant and needy in his arms.

"So, what?" Dean coughs wetly, shivering against the archangel. " You can be my freaking shrink and shove lollipops in my face when I make some sort of progress?"

Gabriel sighs and pinches Dean's arm, then runs his hand up and down it to create warmth. He's trying to put up that wall again, that facade and really, Gabriel is thrilled to see the Winchester boy come back to himself, but he can hardly be expected to hold back a line of his own insults when he says shit like that. "You want a long-sleeved shirt? Don't think you own one, but I can whip one up for you."

"Nah," Dean kisses Gabriel's cheek and apparently that's that.

He wants to curse Sam for running around without a soul and ditching his brother here. Not that Gabriel doesn't love it when the human gets dumped on him, he adores that part. Though really, if Sam asked him instead of insulting his brother for something that honestly can't be helped, he wouldn't feel like he was rubbed the wrong way. Four days ago, Sam couldn't have been happier to hunt without his brother, as if he were merely an obligation and not family. Sure, maybe Gabriel thought he ditched the whole idea of family a while back, until Dean came into his life, all smiles and insults and laughter.

Came into his life and warmed him up.

'Here, you deal with him,' was what Sam had deemed fit to say, dropping an unresponsive Dean in Gabriel's arms. The archangel figures if he had to be with that sorry excuse for a person he would have been unresponsive on purpose, just to get the hell away from him.

Dean doesn't talk about it. Why should he anyway?

"You planning on getting some sleep anytime soon?" Gabriel's set to extricate himself from Dean's sloppy, desperate hold on him and slide down to massage his feet, to see it that'll relax him enough to the point of sleep. Sometimes it does, sometimes it just makes the human more talkative, which Gabriel doesn't mind too much either.

Dean snuffles against his chest and it is literally the cutest sound Gabriel has ever heard. "Sam said he'd come back for me today."

Gabriel very nearly growls at that, "So? You can sleep, I'll kick him out if he comes by." Sam coming back for him? Yeah right, he'd rather smite his ass then let Sam take him away again. He can't though, Dean would really kill him after he's expressly told him more than once that there's still a chance to retrieve his soul and put it back within him. If there's one thing Dean will never give up on, no matter how much he's mistreated, it's Sam.

"M'cold, Gabe." Dean yawns, "Let's stop talking." Gabriel agrees, fingers digging deep into the human's muscles, working on loosening up the tenseness that won't seem to dissipate there. He alternates between this and rubbing his hands up and down every patch of skin he can reach, ignoring Dean's dislike of his abilities and whipping up a new pair of socks for his feet and sweats that reach down to them, covering up any bare patch of skin.

"Rest, kiddo. You've earned it."

Dean may not stay, but the one thing he always does is come back, and Gabriel would be damned if that wasn't a step in the right direction.

**FIN**


End file.
